


Thorns and Needles

by Youdirtylittlegirl



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, PTSD, Pain, Service Animal, Smut, TattooArtist!Avengers, Veteran!Bucky, more tags to come, tattoo verse, tattooing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7062235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youdirtylittlegirl/pseuds/Youdirtylittlegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky opens up a tattoo shop after his last tour in Iraq.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorns and Needles

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm on the border about this. Please let me know what you think, guys, comments are love! 
> 
> I have a Tumblr and a Reddit under the same username, so follow me there and send me messages because i want to talk to you guys and know what you'd like to see from me!

It was a crisp, cold morning in November. The city was still quiet as a man walked down the street, nursing a large paper cup of coffee. He wore a dark grey bomber jacket that kept him warm on his trek, though he shivered when a gust of wind blew past his face. His nose was red from the cold, but his ears were warm underneath his thick black beanie. Within several more minutes, he stopped in front of a small shop and reached in his pocket for a ring of jingling keys. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, turning the lock again and taking off his jacket. He walked behind the counter and set it on a chair before reaching to a small radio and plugging in his phone to play a soft stream of classic rock music. The man sat down for a moment, finally able to enjoy his hot drink without the wind freezing his face. He relaxed for a few more moments before taking his beanie off and running a hand through his jaw-length chestnut hair, pushing it away from his face. The act was futile, however, because the strands fell right back into his eyes, which rolled as he reached under the counter for a large sketchpad. He pulled his hair back into a sloppy excuse for a ponytail and opened the pad to a fresh page, sketching a few rough borders and outlines before starting on a concept for his first client of the day. He bowed his head over it, all of his focus and attention put onto it, until there was a sharp rap on the door. He looked up and saw a redheaded woman standing outside, shifting from foot to foot as she tried to keep warm in only a small leather jacket. The man got up grudgingly and unlocked the door for her, making sure to lock it again once she was inside.

“What are you doing here so early Tash?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly, “Thought your first appointment wasn’t until noon.”

“It wasn’t.” She said shortly, hanging her jacket up and stretching her long, pale arms. “But someone found me on Facebook and begged me to do a piece on them before they left for their honeymoon.”

The man smirked and rolled his eyes, knowing how much Natasha hated early appointments. 

“What about you, Buck? You look like you haven’t slept in a while.” She asked, lifting herself onto the counter and swinging her feet. 

“I slept. A little.” He said, ignoring her question. “But I wanted to get an early start. I have someone coming in at nine for the first session on their sleeve. And I wanted to get another page of flash done. My portfolio is lacking.” 

Natasha smirked at that, running a hand through her short curly hair. Bucky had spent an embarrassingly long time creating his portfolio, and it hit nearly every metric possible, ranging from traditional styles to portraits. So that made it a running joke in the shop that Bucky’s portfolio was terrible. 

Bucky was extremely committed to his shop. He put practically every penny he had into starting it up and making sure that every piece of equipment that he and the other artists used was up to standard and he came into the shop at least an hour early every day to clean and sterilize everything, and to reorganize the bottles of ink by his station. There were four separate sets of shelves for each artist in their area of the shop with their own collection of inks. Bucky was extraordinarily meticulous about the way his station was set up. He usually didn’t have company in the mornings, and he preferred it that way. However, if he had to choose one person to be there with him, it was Natasha. She was much like him, and kept to herself, though the conversations they had together were usually much welcomed. She was the person that Bucky would go to when he needed advice or comfort, though there was no sexual or romantic feelings between the two. 

Without his realizing it, Natasha had silently gotten off of the counter and had made her way back to her station, sitting on the seat and grabbing her bottle of sanitizer, spraying it generously on the plastic coated seat and scrubbing it. Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing that he’d been able to sleep more the night before. Sleep was something that didn’t come easily to him anymore. Not after his tour in Iraq. It had been years since he was an active soldier, but the things that he’d seen would stick with him for his entire life, likely. 

The thing that Bucky felt peace and solace in once he returned home after receiving an honorable discharge was art. He had already had several tattoos and starting up a career in that line just seemed right to him. He had poured his heart and soul into his work and soon enough, he had began making offers on the small space next to a stationary shop and a bakery. 

As therapeutic as it was, Bucky still woke up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat, shouting at the top of his lungs. There were very few nights that Bucky got a good nights sleep, and last night was not one of them. He’d been up all night tossing and turning. 

When Natasha put a soft hand on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin, turning and snatching her wrist at the same time. Her eyebrows were raised and she held her free hand up in a reassuring way that she wouldn’t touch him again. 

“Shit. Sorry Tash, I-I…” Bucky shook his head and released a long breath, “I’m sorry. It was a rough night.” 

“It’s okay, Bucky. I get it.” Her voice was soothing, “Want to talk about it?” 

Bucky pursed his lips and refused to meet her green gaze. He shook his head and sighed.

“Same stuff, different night. Nothing to talk about.”

He knew he wasn’t helping himself in the long run by shutting people out, but he couldn’t bring himself to burden anyone else with the horrifying images that haunted him most nights. At this point, he practically lived on coffee, energy drinks and Tylenol.

Natasha smiled at him, sorrow in her eyes as she tugged at her trapped wrist, reminding him that he was still gripping it tightly. He began apologizing profusely but was cut off by another rap on the door. She got the door this time, greeting Clint as he strode in, sunglasses on and attitude high. He looked like he’d been up all night drinking, and when he took the glasses off, Bucky knew that he was right, upon seeing his bloodshot eyes. Bucky smirked at him and finally stood up, making his way to his station to colorize the ink that was lining the shelves above his desk. 

“Who else is in today?” Clint asked, flopping into the seat that Bucky had just vacated. 

“Wanda, I think.” Natasha answered for Bucky. “She’s not in until later, though.”

Bucky let himself fade out, ignoring their conversation as he began the process of cleaning his station. This was something else that relaxed his damaged mind, cleaning was. He didn’t even notice that by the time he was done the shop was already open. It wasn’t until he heard the timid voice of a woman at the counter that he looked up. 

She had to only be twenty, maybe twenty one at the most. This had to be her first tattoo appointment by the nerves in her voice. 

“Mornin’ doll.” Bucky said, sauntering over to the front counter. “What can I do for you?”

“Um, I’ve got an appointment.” She said, glancing around the shop. “With Bucky, I was going to start my sleeve today.” 

He smiled at the girl and pulled out a stack of waivers and handed her one on a clipboard.

“That’ll be me. It’s going to be a fun morning, sugar, but first I need you to fill out these forms. They’re just consent forms and age verification.”


End file.
